After the Chase
by NinaQ
Summary: What should you do with a reckless husband?  Rosalie's reaction to Emmett's fight with Paul.  Set during Eclipse, just after the Cullens chase Victoria.  Rated M for language from an angry wife and a make-up lemon.


Author's note: When they return from Jacksonville, Edward explains to Bella that Emmett and Paul had a 'misunderstanding' while chasing Victoria. This one-shot details the end of that evening from Rosalie's POV. Rated M for language and lemon.

SM owns the rights. I own the overactive imagination.

Thanks again to keriarentika for the guidance and comma patrol.

* * *

"Go on ahead. We'll meet you at the house." It's a simple request. Too bad I have to spit it out through gritted teeth. I watch my family move quickly away from the river, heading for the house. They don't want to be a part of this conversation. I wait until they are almost out of sight before turning to my idiot of a husband.

He stands a few feet from me. His clothes are dripping steadily onto the carpet of dead leaves and pine needles. I can tell by the defiant set of his jaw that he is ready for the fight he knows damn well is coming. He keeps his eyes on me and doesn't move the entire time our family retreats.

So many things run through my head while we wait for them to disappear. I can't believe we're out here. In the middle of the woods. In the middle of the night. Chasing Victoria...again. I can think of a thousand things I'd rather be doing than trying to clean up Edward's mess.

When the others are finally gone, I try to speak calmly.

"Do you want to tell me what hell you were thinking?" I manage to ask. Dammit. My jaw is still clenched.

Of all the things he could have replied with, he picked the one that was guaranteed to blow my top right at that moment. "Rosie, baby..."

Without thinking, I rush at him, full speed. I manage to stop with our noses just inches apart.

"Of all the moronic, dimwitted, asinine stunts you have pulled over the years, I can't believe you would do this!" The volume of my voice continues to rise with each word. In my mind's eye I can see myself, arms raised and flailing, feet braced, leaning into him with each screamed word. I know I am totally out of control, but I just can't rein it in.

"What did you expect me to do?" he replies quickly. His own voice is starting to change, sounding defensive. "I saw a chance and I took it!"

"Is that what you call it? A chance? Are you suicidal? Those fucking wolves would like nothing better than to tear us apart, and that macho stunt of yours almost let them do it."

I can't believe he has been so stupid! Worse yet, he doesn't seem to care about the danger that he put himself in.

Generally, his impulsive actions have no real consequence. Over the years, I've overlooked more wrecked cars, broken furniture, and inappropriate comments than I care to remember. But this is...different.

Suddenly, I can't stand being anywhere near him. Turning on my heel, I start to stalk away. I don't get more than twenty feet or so when his yell stops me.

"Don't you leave! You want to give me shit about the thing with Paul, that's fine. Scream and rant all you want, but don't you walk away from me!" I know it makes him crazy when I turn my back on him during a fight.

I stop and spin to face him. "And why should I give a shit about what you want? Did you think about anyone but yourself when you pulled that crap tonight? Huh?" I'm screaming again.

He lowers his head so he's looking through his lashes at me. When he replies his voice holds a deep sincere tone. "I did it for you, baby! All of us, really. Once Victoria is gone, we can go back to the way things were!"

He might have been able to pull that shit if I didn't know him so well. That tone of voice means one thing. He's telling me exactly what I want to hear. Not necessarily the whole truth, but not exactly a lie. Basically, whatever it will take to get me off his back. Every time he pulls this crap I want to rip his damned head off.

"How stupid do you think I am, you miserable ass? This has nothing to do with us. Once again you have to show off and prove what a giant pair you have. Only now you don't just compete with our brothers, you have to show the wolves what a big man you are!"

Oh hell. I saw that line in the sand and the pissy bitch in me couldn't help but pole-vault over it. There is no way he's letting me get away with that. With a grim smile he starts slowly striding toward me.

"Oh, baby. I don't think that's how you want to play." I hear the whispered words and the deadly inflection he gives them. I'd only heard that tone a few times in all our decades together. I am in deep shit. I know he would never hurt me, but some instinct for self-preservation starts screaming to run.

He shakes his head gently as he gets closer. His eyes never leave mine. I can't let him see that I am fighting the urge to back up. _Hold your ground!_ I keep my feet firmly planted and stare into his eyes.

He doesn't stop in front of me the way I expect. Breaking eye contact, he walks behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. Leaning in close to my ear I can feel his breath as he whispers.

"We're gonna play nice and talk about this like grown-ups. Aren't we, baby? 'Cause you know what's gonna happen if we don't." The feel of his breath on my neck sends shivers through me. God, I wish he didn't know how to push every button.

Moving in even closer behind me, I can feel his broad chest against my back. A single finger moves my hair to one side and soft lips tenderly kiss below my ear. His palms move slowly from my shoulders down my arms. Those amazing hands cross to my waist and rub up my torso, continually kissing down my neck. He's in no hurry.

Closing my eyes, I bite my lip. I will not make any noises letting him know what he is doing to me. His hands come to rest on my breasts and his thumbs rub the peaks through my clothes. My nipples start to pebble under the assault. It takes everything I have not to grind my ass back into his hips.

I need to marshal some sort of defense.

"Don't touch me!" I hope it comes out as a shriek, but I doubt it. He's already starting to get to me. He knows I am truly pissed and since placating me isn't working he's trying to get out the big gun. I have to stay coherent enough to make my point. If this goes any further, I'll be lost.

I start to pull away, but he spins me to face him. Before I can respond, he has both of my hands pinned in one of his big ones. He pulls them firmly into the small of my back. The motion forces me off balance and forward. My breasts meet his wet, cold chest. My nipples become completely hard and I curse my response to him.

"Now we're gonna try again," he hisses with even more force behind his words. "Are you ready to play nice?"

"No, dammit!" I yell, struggling against him. He pulls me closer and I can feel his body responding to my movements. Somehow knowing that he enjoys any part of this enrages me. Seeing red, I step back as far as I can with my left foot. I quickly bring up my right knee, aiming for his most prized possession. Unfortunately, I miss by inches.

Surprised by my movement, he drops my arms. I give him a hard shove and take off in the opposite direction from the house. He remains on his feet, but the surprise gives me a head start.

Branches tear at my hair and clothes. I am too angry to care about being graceful. It won't take him long to catch up. I make it less than a mile before I hear his heavy footfalls behind me. He's always been faster. I can't win this race, but my pride won't let me stop.

Launching himself at me, he hits me hard. We roll across the forest floor, spraying dirt and leaves in a shower around us. He maneuvers the final roll so that he ends straddling my hips with my hands pinned above my head.

"Enough," he growls through his teeth as he lowers his head. His mouth comes down hard on mine. These are not a loving, playful, Emmett kisses. These are raw and punishing. Every movement shows me that he's the one in charge. I try to hold my mouth still but he manages to open my lips and plunge his tongue inside. His free hand moves to my breast, continuing to build sensations I don't want to feel.

Decades of enjoying his kisses have conditioned my body to yield to this man. Tonight is no different. Incrementally, I begin to fold to his persistence. My arms stop thrashing and my chest rises to meet his hand. With a soft moan, my eyes close and my tongue meets his. As my breathing comes faster, I'm filled with his scent. His normal almond and leather smell is mixed with the aromas of clean river water and freshly fallen leaves.

A heavy feeling starts to build low in my abdomen. He is in no hurry to let me up or take this kiss any further. My frustration builds. My mind is still livid, but my body is giving up the fight. A high-pitched whimper escapes my throat before I can stop it.

He's been waiting for that sound.

He breaks the kiss and moves his lips across my jaw and down my throat. I can't see it, but I know him well enough to know he's grinning between kisses, savoring this victory.

His free hand moves from my breast to the neck of my t-shirt. With a simple pull of his finger, the fabric opens to my waist. He pushes it aside and lifts his head. The black lace bra is a deep contrast to my skin. "So beautiful..." he whispers as he lowers his head and flicks one nipple through the fabric. My back arches to meet his mouth. His head moves again and with a quick snap at the center seam, the bra separates.

I realize that the pressure holding my wrists is gone. His hands meet at the hollow of my throat, then separate, moving down my arms. The remnants of my shirt and bra go with them. His eyes follow each movement.

Bending his head, his lips glide from my throat, across my collarbone, and stop at my breasts. As he alternates between tender kisses and nipping bites, my urgency grows.

I need to touch him. Rubbing quickly across his shoulders to his ribs, the clammy t-shirt feels heavy as I tug it from his waistband. When it's free, he pauses long enough for me to shove it over his head. My hands grasp at his shoulders then slide through his hair, wanting him closer.

His lips return to mine. Kissing me hard, his urgency presses me into the ground. Chest hair rubs against my sensitive nipples. I whimper in the back of my throat. My back arches again, pressing my breasts into him.

"Oh...please," I moan. I'm amazed that I can get anything coherent out of my mouth. The next few actions are a blur. He pulls me to my feet and removes our remaining clothing. Shreds of jeans, boots, and socks fly around us. One last movement flashes in front of me, and out of the corner of my eye, I see my black lace panties land on a nearby branch.

He returns, pressing himself to me. One hand gently pulls my hair from my face and the other moves to my back. A quick motion pulls my hips firmly to him. Deep, open-mouthed kisses intensify the heat in my core. I can feel the moisture pooling between my legs. His erection presses into my stomach and he groans. My legs give at the sound.

"Easy, baby," he whispers against my lips. Keeping his arms around me, he lowers me gently to my knees and stands in front of me. His sloe-eyed stare is intent as his mouth spreads into that smile I love.

Moving forward, I make one long lick from the base of his cock to the tip. He throws his head back, moaning my name. Kneeling up, I suck as much of him into my mouth as I can and slowly bob my head. His hands tangle in my hair, gently guiding my moves. I reach around him and pull his hips closer to me, caressing the firm muscles beneath the smooth skin.

His thighs start to shake with the tension and he pulls me off. Breathing heavy, I wait as he moves behind me. Brushing my hair aside, he nuzzles my neck for a moment before placing one big hand in the small of my back. He gently but firmly bends me forward. My eyes are closed, on my hands and knees with my head arched back, waiting. He joins our bodies with a firm thrust and a groan, his hands are tight on my hips. Hard thrusts make my breasts bounce with the force of each stroke. I repeatedly rock back into his hips, each movement adds to the growing tension.

"No! Don't move," he growls. His hold tightens, locking me in place, reinforcing that he's in control. My denied motion causes a loud groan deep in my throat. Pinned in place, I can't respond, unable to do anything but enjoy. Being motionless amplifies every sensation.

A primitive urge takes over and I start circling my hips. Anything to get the friction my body so desperately needs. My attempts earn me two fast, hard smacks on my ass, just this side of painful. "Oh no you don't. We're gonna make this last. It isn't over until I say it's over," he says, his teeth clenched. I can hear the tension in his voice, I know that he's as close to the edge as I am. I don't look back. My head is hanging down as I take panting breaths, trying to control myself. Without warning, he moves away from me.

"No," I moan as he pulls out, feeling instantly empty and bereft.

He grabs my ankles, pulls me flat, and rolls me over almost instantly. He remains kneeling, pulling one of my ankles over his shoulder. My cry echoes around us as he thrusts into me. The strokes are deep and satisfying. A pounding I can feel throughout my entire body. He loves this position because he can watch every part of my body as I respond.

Keeping my ankle tucked to him, his other hand ventures between my legs. First there is a single finger between us, playing at the edge of my folds. When a second finger joins the first and begins to pinch and vibrate the tender bundle of nerves, I come undone. Vision and thought cease. My body tenses around him repeatedly, muscles rippling. I'm left trembling and whimpering.

I open my eyes and he is smiling, watching me, moving in small slow strokes. I know how much he enjoys watching what his body does to me.

He lowers his weight to me and my knees fall apart, welcoming him home. Never breaking my gaze, he slides deep within me. We break into a smooth, satisfying rhythm. This isn't punishing, angry sex. This is gentle and soothing. Within a few minutes, I can feel the heat within me building again, and I want him with me this time.

"Oh, God... Please. Now." It's as close as I'll get to a sentence but he understands. His thrusts become faster and shorter, giving just the right amount of friction to push me over the edge. When I go, he follows, calling my name and holding me close.

As our breathing slows, he snakes an arm around me and pulls me close. My head rests on his chest and he presses light kisses into my hair. With each breath I feel our chests rub gently together. His legs tangle with mine.

As my senses return, I first notice the sounds of insects in the trees. Reality is intruding on our moment. I refuse to open my eyes. This tiny sliver of time will end fast enough and I'm not ready to spoil it yet.

With slow loving motions, his arm moves over me. Gentle rubbing, up and down my back, from rear to shoulder blades and back again. It's a soft, rhythmic movement meant to soothe. I snuggle deeper into his chest.

This is the one place I am safe, protected, loved, and accepted. There is no one to fight now. I don't have to put on a brave face. Whispering, I try to speak the words that I've wanted to say from the moment he pulled himself from the river. What I couldn't express in my anger and panic.

"Emmett, please don't ever do anything like that again. I couldn't bear to lose you."

He doesn't speak. He simply holds me. We lie like this, entwined under the stars, until the sky starts to turn pink.

Reluctantly, I lift my head and look down into his eyes. "I mean it. If you pull that shit again, I'll rip you apart myself," I mutter with a smile as I lean into his lips. Our kiss is long and deep. A promise for the future.

I pull myself to my feet and extend a hand to him. He slaps my ass with a grin before taking my hand and pulling himself up.

Our fevered ripping has limited my clothing option to a single sodden t-shirt. I'm happier leaving it on the forest floor.

"Come on, Eve. Let's go home." Emmett grins at me. We walk back to the house hand-in-hand, naked and shoeless.

The first time he'd called me Eve, all those years ago, I protested. There was no way I wanted to be compared to the mother of humanity. He'd simply turned to me and said "Rosie, Eve was made for Adam. We learned about it in Sunday school. She was his perfect mate, made just for him. You are my perfect mate. In my mind, that makes you Eve." And so whenever we are alone and naked, I'm Eve, and I'm happy.

It's not the first time we climb in our window naked. I'm sure it won't be the last.


End file.
